Awake
by rarararawr
Summary: After returning from their trip to Hawaii, Brock and Reba struggle with the choices they must make, as well as the consequences for their actions. Read to discover how this will play out for themselves, as well as the family. RATING MAY CHANGE AS PLOT PROGRESSES
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**After returning from their trip to Hawaii, Brock and Reba struggle with the choices they must make, as well as the consequences for their actions. Read to discover how this will play out for themselves, as well as the family. **

**[R] Enjoy and read on!**

* * *

**I hope you're ready for another one of my stories :) This is the sequel to Beautiful Oblivion, so I advise you read that previous to this one. Thank you for being so patient, as this was a while coming. Feel free to review, they are always appreciated. I am providing a recap because this story picks up directly after the ending of the last. Enjoy love!**

* * *

_Recap:_

Brock watched breathlessly as the plane ascended into the pink and orange sky. The large tail of the plane was flashing with different lights, preparing for the long flight ahead. He watched as that plane flew into the midst of the clouds, into the blinding sunrise. He watched as it took the only woman he had ever truly loved away.

The policeman rushed up behind Brock and took his wrists, bringing them behind his back and snapping the handcuffs on securely. Brock didn't fight it, his thoughts were too consumed with the redhead that had gotten away.

He would see her at home, but by then, she would have had two days to think and decide what she wanted, and who was he kidding? She wasn't going to choose him. He had screwed up, and there was no fixing it. It was too late, and her mind was made up. She left him and whatever feelings they shared here, in Hawaii. So he just watched, he watched as that plane disappeared where the ocean met the sea.

He watched as Reba faded into a beautiful oblivion.

* * *

Reba closed the door as she stepped inside. The click echoed throughout the empty house and she stood there, dazed by the commotion going on inside her head. She had slept with her ex-husband who was still married to her "best friend." God, she hated referring to Barbra Jean as her best friend, even if it was true. Over the many years they had known each other, the blonde bimbo had actually grown on her. And look what she had done to her.

_Some friend you are, _Reba said to herself. The irony was surreal. Any woman in her position would probably be happy with the revengeful situation she had gotten herself stuck in, but she wasn't. She wasn't happy in the slightest. Or was she?

Reba pressed her body against the door and slid down until she was balled up on the door mat, which was probably disgustingly dirty, but she didn't care. Tears welled up in her eyes and she pounded her fists against the floor in frustration. What had she gotten herself into? Yes, she knew the thought was always in the back of her mind that she still had feelings for Brock. They all became evident when Brock and Barbra Jean's former marriage counselor asked if they still loved one another. Neither of them could answer. Was that a sign? Or was she just speechless that that question was proposed to her? She didn't know, and honestly, she didn't want to go into too much depth thinking about it. It was hard enough to imagine having to tell her family what she and Brock had done during the vacation trip.

She remained in a ball like form, soaking herself in tears of guilt and regret. She sniffled back some tears as she pulled herself up into a sitting position. Her eyes lingered to the open kitchen door frame and slowly crept to the top cabinet where the liquor was stashed. It did seem rather tempting and quite plausible for the time being. She slowly pulled herself to her feet, using the door handle for support. She hadn't drank much since her and Brock's divorce, with the exception of a beer or two, or a glass of wine in the evening. She had long diminished her horrible binge drinking during the separation. But she needed something strong right now. She needed to forget. And she knew exactly what would do the trick.

Her feet dragged her through the living room and into the kitchen, where she paused in front of the cabinets. She bit her lip, contemplating whether she wanted to do this or not. As the pressure weighed down on her, she sunk her teeth deeper into her bottom lip, nearly drawing blood. "Dammit," she muttered as she slung the cabinet door open and pulled a bottle of wine down from the shelves and swung the refrigerator door open as well, retrieving two bottles of vodka from the very back, behind the milk carton and lemonade.

"What have you gotten yourself into?" Reba asked herself aloud as she allowed her body to collapse on the floor next to the couch in the living room. She couldn't risk spilling any on the upholstery, the family would probably smell it. Especially Barbra Jean, she was like a dog when it came to identifying aromas. Reba sighed as she untwisted the cap on one of the vodka bottles and took a long swig. She didn't even bother using glasses to drink out of. What was the point? She was going to clear these in no time. A glass would be unnecessary in her mind. She shrugged the thoughts away as she downed another mouth full, feeling the affects branch throughout her body.

xxx

"So what exactly were you trying to accomplish back there?" The security guard questioned a solemn Brock. When he got no response, he leaned in closer, trying to intimidate him more.

Brock rolled his eyes as he looked up from his chained wrists. The handcuffs were tight and imprinting his skin in harsh lines. "Isn't this a little extreme?" He picked his hands up off of the table and tried separating his wrists, only to result in more pain.

The guard took a small step back, straightening his back out to look taller. "No, it's not extreme, what's _extreme _is running out on the landing strip as a plane is getting ready to take off. Now, I'll ask you again, what were you doing?" He crossed his arms and stared intently into Brock's eyes.

Brock shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked down at his lap. He needed to think of something to say to get him out of this, and fast! What's something even a policeman would take into consideration? "My kid!" He looked up suddenly, as he spoke his thoughts aloud.

The guard raised an eyebrow and snapped his gum between his teeth. "Your kid?" He asked, as if not sure that was what Brock really said.

Brock nodded his head annoyed at his obnoxious gum chewing. "Yeah...uh, my little girl! She got on the wrong plane and went to Houston, Texas. I was trying to stop the plane. She'll be alone at the airport with no way home and who knows who will try to take her!?" He shouted, waving his cuffed hands in the air. "I have to get on the next flight asap, please; you have to understand!"

The security guard scratched his head, thinking for a moment. "I'm going to need some sort of proof. Do you have a picture of some sort?" He walked a little closer as Brock nodded his head. Hesitantly, the guard placed the little key inside the handcuffs and twisted it, until there was a click. He released Brock's wrists from the imprisonment and placed the hand cuffs back into the pocket of his police waist belt.

Brock rubbed his red, sore wrists tenderly before continuing to retrieve his wallet from one of his bathing suit trunk pockets. He inhaled a deep breath before opening it and rummaging through some of the pictures before finding the one of Elizabeth. "Here she is," he mentioned as he pulled it out of it's special spot and handing it to the security guard. He smiled smugly as the guard nodded and stepped out of the entry way, handing Brock back the wallet size picture. Brock mumbled a thanks, before heading out of the room and back into the airport waiting lines.

Deciding it was best to notify Barbra Jean of what was happening, he pulled out his cellphone and dialed her number quickly. It rang and rang, but no answer. Brock felt terrible about leaving without getting ahold of someone, but he didn't have much time. The voice mail tone rang in his ear and he cleared his throat before speaking into the phone, "BJ, hey, it's me. I just wanted to let you know that Reba caught a flight back to Houston about an hour and a half ago. I'm going to go home and make sure everything is alright. You stay here with the kids, that way they won't worry. I'll talk to you later, bye." He pressed the end button and slipped it back into his pocket before joining the line for the next flight to Houston.

xxx

Brock glanced at his watch as he approached Reba's front door. The little arrows pointed to a quarter past six. He wondered what she would be doing right now. Maybe fixing dinner, or reading a book. Something to calm herself. He took one last step and he was face-to-face with the closed door. The barrier between him and Reba. Cautiously, he rose his weak balled up fist to the stain glass window and, very gently, knocked twice.

Nothing. Not a peep. He leaned in close and pressed his ear against the wood. If there was any sound to be heard, it must have been too quiet to hear through the thick door. Trusting his instinct that Reba never locked the door, and that she possibly might consider not killing him if he barged in at a time like this, he pressed down the door handle. It was unlocked. After inhaling a shaky breath, he pushed the door open. He stood dumbfounded at what he saw before him.

There must have been five or six bottles total of alcohol beverages surrounding Reba. Her reaction was delayed as she looked up at him from her spot on the floor.

His image was distorted and blurry, but she managed to identify his golden hair and orange skin. "Brock! What're...what're you doing here?" She slurred as she shifted her weight and failed at an attempt to stand up. Anger filled her bloodshot eyes and she jerked her head away from him, avoiding eye contact. "Leave me alone. I-I never want to shee you again." She used the couch's armrest for support as she lifted her body from the ground. She teetered back and forth for a minute before maintaining a straight position. Still clearly fuming, she turned to leave the room.

Brock said nothing and left the front door wide open, as he marched over to her. His breath was heavy and he approached her quickly. Just as she was getting to the kitchen door, he gripped her tiny wrist, gently mind you, and spun her around to face him. Her body was easy to turn, given she was already swaying like a sailboat in a hurricane and her wide, petrified eyes locked with his. Brock wasted no time as he pulled her forward and pressed his desperate lips against her's.

At first, Reba stayed stationary with shock, but she slowly accepted it and kissed back, perhaps more forcibly than he. Her tongue slowly moved for his unconsciously. Suddenly, they were twisting and pressing their tongues against one another. He could taste the strong alcohol on her breath and he pressed against her harder, the kiss seeming to intoxicate him alone. The realization of what she was doing weighed down on her and she tore her body away from his. She took a small step back and barely touched her bottom lip which was swollen and scarlet red. Her eyes glazed over and without warning, she reared her hand back and landed it harshly against Brock's cheek.

He squeezed his eyes shut on impact and was dazed for a moment. Slowly, he opened his eyes to look back at a teary eyed red head. "Reba-" he started. Reba shook her head. Her eyes shone red and puffy and she looked down, trying hard not to cry, but her hormones were uncontrollable when she was drunk stupid. "I'm sorry," she whispered as she looked back up to him.

A single tear tread down her soft thin cheek and Brock whisked it away with his calloused thumb. "Let's get you to bed, honey." He lifted her body from the ground and she would have fought him if she was in the right state of mind, but having not been, she allowed him to carry her all the way upstairs. She buried her face in his shoulder and he held her closer as her body shook with soft sobs. "Shh," he whispered in a barely audible voice. "It's okay." He approached her bedroom door and pushed it open with his foot. Upon entering the room, he was careful not to bump her head or feet in the process.

Her body was limp as he laid it down on her king size bed. She felt her body sink deep into the comforter and mattress, until Brock lifted her body a bit to pull the sheets out from under her. He removed her shoes and placed them on the floor next to him. Reba closed her eyes, wishing for sleep, but Brock clicked on the lamp that sat on her night stand, illuminating the room in a yellow lambency. She growled at the light in her face and covered her eyes with a throw pillow. Brock chuckled quietly as he retrieved a pajama shirt and pair of pants from her drawer. He placed them on the foot of the bed and shook her body gently. "Reba, change into these before you go to bed." He waited to see her nod, then made his way into her bathroom.

The tile floor was chilly under his feet as he shuffled his way to the counter. He turned on the water and watched it run for a second, the sound seeming to soothe him. He proceeded to splash some on his face, in hopes of rejuvenating himself. There were muffled sounds coming from outside and he opened the door to see Reba lying there with her pajama T-shirt on and pants midway on her legs. She had given up and fallen asleep. Brock laughed at the scene and grabbed the bottle of Advil and a glass of water before tiptoeing over to her. He placed the items on her nightstand and stared at her for a moment. Her face was contorted into the look she had whenever she was trying to figure something out. He smiled at the knowing look she had on her face before resuming to pull her pants up the rest of the way. He gripped the elastic waste and pulled it upward. It slipped easily over her thin thighs and hip bones. He smiled at how soundly she slept; it was truly beautiful. He knew she would have a massage hangover the next morning though.

He turned to leave, when a quiet sleepy voice asked "Brock?" His body turned sharply at the sound and he replied immediately. "Yes?" A few seconds passed between until finally Reba spoke up again, "don't leave." A small smile spread across his face and he sat down on a familiar chair by the window. "Alright angel."

Brock looked around the room, really taking in the scenery. It looked the same, yet different from the room they had built so many memories in. The maroon walls made the room feel warmer, more welcoming. He remembered how it took them forever to decide on a color to paint the room and as soon as Reba saw that shade, it was decided. She had changed the table arrangements and the only things on her dresser were perfume, makeup, and jewelry. Last time he saw it, it was invaded with men's cologne and deodorant. He didn't know what he expected the room to look like now. The exact same? Completely remodeled? Brock sighed and put his head in his hands. It had been so long since he was in this room. He missed it, but all the nostalgia it caused was overwhelming. There were a couple picture frames on the table next to him and picked each one up. They were all of the kids. He remembered when they were mostly family photos. He picked up the one of them on Thanksgiving playing football and smiled at the memory. When he set it back down, it shifted a bit inside the glass to reveal another picture. Raising an eyebrow, he picked the frame back up and removed the back to take out the pictures. He carefully placed the Thanksgiving picture aside and flipped the other one over to expose his and Reba's wedding picture. He stared at it for a moment, until he heard something shift from the bed. His eyes jerked up to see Reba had only moved a bit in her sleep. Sighing inwardly, he returned the pictures to their previous spots and placed the frame back on the table. He looked at Reba one last time before getting up, turning off the light, and making his way back downstairs to the living room.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

_Chapter 2 coming soon._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**After returning from their trip to Hawaii, Brock and Reba struggle with the choices they must make, as well as the consequences for their actions. Read to discover how this will play out for themselves, as well as the family. **

**[R] Enjoy and read on!**

* * *

**Thank you for the reviews, they're so inspiring c: I hope some other writers are planning on updating soon, I miss all of your stories guys! Anyways, hope you like it- feel free to review Xx**

* * *

Just as he plopped down on the couch, his phone started vibrating in his pocket. "Hello?" He asked, putting the phone up to his ear. When Barbra Jean's voice sounded on the other end of the line, he prepared himself to make a trail of lies.

"What happened to Reba!?" She cried frantically.

Brock tried to remain in a calm manor as he replied, "she said she was stressed out and wanted these two days to get ahead in work." There was silence for a moment while Barbra Jean thought about his response.

"Let me talk to her," she said defiantly. "And why did you have to go too? You have a family here Brock Hart! You cannot just leave us. The kids are freaking out," she nearly screamed into the speaker.

Brock pulled the phone away from his face to sigh loudly before resuming their conversation. "She couldn't answer her phone, and I was afraid something bad had happened, so the only thing I could think to do was hop on the next plane available. I tried to get hold of you, but you didn't answer, so I just left a message."

"Let me talk to my best friend Brock Hart or I will climb through this phone and hunt her down myself like a blood hound!" She shouted, ignoring everything Brock had just said.

"She's asleep," he stated simply while running a hand over his face. "Look, can we talk about this tomorrow? I'm getting pretty tired myself. Tell the kids I love them." Barbra Jean continued to ramble on until Brock just sighed and hit the end button. "That woman could talk a mile a minute," he mumbled to himself. His face fell when he realized he didn't have a key to his house and the only other option was to sleep on Reba's couch. He really disliked the idea of that. It always resulted in a crick in the neck or back pain for days.

He looked to the top of the stairs and raised an eyebrow. None of the kids were here and he'd be up before Reba if he set the alarm on his phone. Smirking at his mischievous plan, he made his way up the stairs and into Kyra's old bedroom. When he pushed the door open, the room smelled of the Ed Hardy perfume she spritzed on every day. Her walls were plastered with posters from numerous rock bands. She was independent, hardheaded, loyal, and intelligent, much like her mother. Brock smiled at the memory of Kyra as a little girl. He could tell she was going to be just like Reba from the beginning, if the hair didn't already prove it that is. Thinking back through the years, Reba was a wonderful mother. Funny thing is, she never saw herself as a mother in she and Brock's early relationship. He remembered her saying she wasn't fit to be a mom, but he couldn't think of any way she could have done it better.

He fell back onto Kyra's bed that was cold with her absence. His eyelids fell heavy as his thoughts weighed down, as they did every night. Suddenly too tired to change out of his clothes, he simply kicked his shoes off and cuddled under her covers, welcoming the sleep that was to come.

xxx

Reba jolted up in bed, the covers falling to gather around her waist. Her eyes were squinted against the harsh light streaming in through the curtains. What time was it? Where was she? She looked around to notice familiar surroundings. This was her room..wait, when did she come home? Had she forgotten the last two days of the vacation trip? She threw back the rest of the covers and tossed her legs over the side of the bed. Just as she did so, her head pulsated with a throbbing pain in response. She clutched the side of her head, paralyzed until the aching subsided. Once it did, she looked next to her and thanked God for the glass of water and bottle of pain medicine that sat on her bedside table. After popping two in, she dragged her feet as she made her way to the closed door of her bedroom. She raked her fingers through her mess of hair hoping to detangle what she could.

By using the railing for support, she slowly descended the stairwell. She squinted again at her surroundings, hoping to find evidence of what happened the night before. She couldn't remember a thing. The hardwood floor chilled her feet and just as she stepped down from the entry way, she slipped on a bottle and hit the floor with a thud. She could see blood coming from her elbow, but the only pain she felt was coming from her head.

There was a sound coming from the top of the stairs and she jerked her eyes in that direction to see Brock flying down the stairs to her.

"What the hell are you doing here!?" She shouted, but immediately regretted it from the pain it added to her hangover. Brock ignored her and lifted her body easily from the ground. He helped prop her up steadily until she regained her composure, then led her to the closest bathroom.

Brock turned on the sink so that the water was ice cold, then stuck her elbow underneath the faucet. Reba shrieked at the chill it sent through her body. "What're you tryin to do? Kill me?" She shot daggers at him as he turned off the water and examined her arm again.

"I think there's a piece of glass from the bottle in there, but it's not deep. I can probably get it out with some tweezers." He pulled the drawer open next to him and retrieved a tiny pair of tweezers he assumed Cheyenne used for tweaking between eyebrow waxing appointments.

Reba bit her lip harshly and squeezed her eyes shut as tight as they would go, ready for the pain that was to come.

Brock rolled his eyes at her. "I'm not going to pour alcohol in it Reba, calm down. I can't deal with a hysterical woman."

It was Reba's turn to roll her eyes. They both knew how much she hated when he said that. "Just do it," she mumbled and thrust her elbow towards him.

He nodded and stared at the wound intensely. It wasn't deep, and he could see the little shard clearly. "Here we go," he said as he eased the tweezers closer. In only seconds, the glass was out and safely disposed of in the trash. "Lets get it bandaged up. I swear, its like you get one little paper cut and the floodgates to Niagra Falls open."

"Oh shut up before I slap the fake tan right off your head. It's only-" she checked the clock on the wall hanging above his head, "eight in the morning and you're already irritating me." She huffed loudly.

Brock rummaged through the cabinet to find a bandage and paper tape to blanket the cut. After finding the perfect size, he dressed the wound tightly and stood back to admire his work. "And you say I'm not a real doctor." He scoffed before stepping aside so she could exit the bathroom.

"You're not," she stated matter-of-factly. "You dentists just know how to stuff some gauze over a cut after you dig into someone's gums with a pick. You could stab them in the chest with something and blame it on their lack of flossing."

"We do not!" Brock put his hands on his hips intimidatingly. He looked to the mess of bottles and his face fell. He watched as Reba's did the same.

"What happened last night?" She asked, turning to him.

Brock sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "After you left Hawaii, I followed on the next plane. When I came in, you were on the ground with all of these bottles surrounding you." He paused to scratch his head, then let his arm drop to his side. "I just helped you to bed, I should have cleaned this up before now so you wouldn't have fallen."

Reba shook her head vigorously. "No, no. It's my fault, I was careless. I'll clean it up. Uh...thank you...for helping me last night," she stated awkwardly before passing by him to the kitchen to get a broom and dustpan. When she walked back in, Brock met her halfway and took the cleaning supplies out of her hands.

"I'll clean this, get some breakfast. I know your head must be killing you." He shooed her out of the room and instructed for her to not enter again for the fear of glass hazard. After sweeping all of the mess up and throwing the remains into the recycling bin, he found Reba hanging her head over a steeping mug of coffee. "That bad?" He asked knowingly.

Reba merely nodded her head and took a careful sip of the strong substance in front of her. "What about the kids and Barbra Jean?" She looked up to him questioningly as he got his own mug and sat down in the seat across from her.

"I talked to BJ on the phone last night and explained that you just left and I left too, to make sure everything was alright. I didn't give her much of an explanation other than that. I was pretty tired and no ideas were really coming to mind." He shrugged and took a small sip of his coffee. "I doubt they'll leave early, so we have today and they'll most likely come back tomorrow night."

Reba nodded her head again and looked out the kitchen window. "We made a mistake you know." She turned her head so that her eyes bore into his. "Probably the biggest mistake I've ever made was that night and I can't take it back. It's going to ruin this family Brock. Just as we sorted out all the problems we suffered from, I had to go and do something so stupid as that." She covered her face with her hands and he watched as tears seeped through her thin, dainty fingers.

The chair screeched against the floor as he slid back and stood. After Reba didn't move, he walked around to her side of the table and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Hey, come here," he said gently while helping her rise from her seat. She turned around as he wrapped his arms around her upper body. She buried her face in the crook of his shoulder and he squeezed her tighter into his embrace. His lips landed softly on the crown of her red hair and he let them linger there, just wanting to comfort her in any way possible.

"What's done is done and although it may hurt the family, they'll understand in the end. It was a long time coming, I think we both know that. I think we _all _know that." He allowed the words to hang in the air, saying aloud what both of them were thinking. It felt different with Reba, making love with her was maybe the only thing that could temporarily accommodate the feeling of completeness. He didn't regret it. And he knew, he never would.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

_Chapter 3 coming soon._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**After returning from their trip to Hawaii, Brock and Reba struggle with the choices they must make, as well as the consequences for their actions. Read to discover how this will play out for themselves, as well as the family. **

**[R] Enjoy and read on!**

* * *

**I don't know if I should keep it teen or include some smut if the story calls for it...what do you think?¿**

* * *

Barbra Jean paced back and forth bitterly with the phone in her hand. She knew it. Something had gone down while they were here, and now they're home _alone_? She crossed her arms and scoffed loudly. They just left her here with the kids while they were doing God knows what. How was she supposed to handle all of the kids? She threw the phone down angrily, but fell to her knees to check on it as soon as it hit the floor. "Oh I'm so sorry," she cooed at the phone while picking it up and checking for any cracks or scratches.

"Barbra Jean?" Cheyenne asked while pushing the door open and entering the hotel room. Her eyes widened when she saw BJ in a heap on the floor. "What in the world are you doing?"

Barbra Jean looked up and scrambled to her feet. "Oh nothing...just..checking the floor for...cheerios. You know," she waved her off. "What did you need?" She asked, addressing the initial meaning for Cheyenne's visit.

Cheyenne ignored the unusual behavior, I mean it _was _Barbra Jean. "Where is Mom and Dad? I never saw them after yesterday morning. Is he here? Did they drink again? Are they in a hangover?" She asked, putting her hands on her hips. "They better not be.." she trailed off looking around the room for signs of bottles.

"No Cheyenne, they did not drink," she rolled her eyes. "They're home." She stated simply.

"What?" Cheyenne was beyond confused. Confusion and blondes did not mix well. "Why are they home? Oh God, what happened? Did someone die? Was it grandma? Oh no, now I have to find an outfit for the funeral. Do I have a black dress? Of course I have a black dress..I might need another one since that one's strapless and-"

"Cheyenne!" Barbra Jean screamed, silencing her stepdaughter. She put her hands up, keeping Cheyenne hushed. "Your grandma did not die, no one died, and you don't need a new dress, all I know is your mom left so Brock went after her to see what was wrong. He hasn't told me what happened except for that." She bit her lip before speaking again. "Something's wrong with my Reba-roo!" She burst out suddenly, her voice cracking as she covered her face with her hands.

"Calm down Barbra Jean, I'm sure Moms fine. She probably just got angry at Dad and overreacted. I'll call them." She turned to leave, but Barbra Jean grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "Cheyenne, can I tell you a secret?" She asked, wiping at her eyes.

"Sure Barbra Jean," Cheyenne smiled and placed her hand comfortingly on her arm. She loved secrets. They were like an adrenaline rush to her, and they were useful. It wasn't that she was conniving, she just liked to know everything- especially when it was about her family. She leaned in closely.

Barbra Jean sniffled a bit and ran her hand under her nose. Her eyes were glued to the ground in an attempt not to cry. "Me and your dad are getting a divorce."

"What! No Barbra Jean, you and Dad are going to be fine! You guys can make it, just try. I'll help you. Lets go shopping and get-"

"No Cheyenne, it's not that easy. We've been trying for a really long time. It's time to stop this game." She took a tissue from the kleenex box by her and wiped at her nose again while sighing dramatically. "When we go back home, don't tell anyone. We'd like to announce it at a family meeting."

Cheyenne nodded her head understandingly. Elizabeth started screaming and crying from down the hall causing Cheyenne to apologize before leaving to go check on her daughter.

xxx

"Reba, hurry up in there, I'm about to explode!" Brock desperately knocked on the door while jumping up and down to keep from peeing his pants. How long did a woman have to take to put on makeup? It was putting some powder or something like that on your face, not reconstructing it.

Suddenly, the door burst open and an angry Reba with her hair half done stood before him. "WHAT IN GOD'S NAME DO YOU WANT?"She screamed, her hand still gripping the door knob beside her until her knuckles turned white. He'd been knocking continually for the past couple minutes.

Brock stumbled back as she approached him, hand at the ready to smack him upside the head. "I just-I needed to-" he stuttered while trying to shield his head from her blows. The urge hit him again in a fury and he bolted past her into the bathroom, avoiding all the shouting and threatening behind him.

Reba rolled her eyes and heaved herself down on the bed. It was warm and welcoming as she fell into the plush comforter. She could hear Brock sighing contently as he relieved himself and she made a sound of disgust noticeably loud in hopes that Brock could hear it.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Reba was digging through her drawer. "What are you looking for?" He asked as he walked over to her bureau and leaned in closely to the mirror hanging on the wall over it. He looked himself over before giving an approving smile.

"I," she exclaimed irritably whilst lifting a pile of socks and peering under them, "am looking for the Advil. Did you put it away?" She asked without looking up. She continued to sift through her other drawers containing jewelry, notepads, and other misc items. "Well!?" She shouted after a minute or two of silence. She whipped around, immediately regretting it as the throbbing resumed in her head. She closed her eyes in frustration.

"Reba, calm down," Brock said gently as he gripped her arm to keep her from swaying from side to side, seeing as she had fallen dizzy from the pulsating. "I put it up while you were washing up in the bathroom, it's in your bedside table; I'll get it." He watched Reba roll her eyes before allowing him past her to get the medicine. She sure was moody when in a hangover. "You know you can't have but two more, you don't want to take too many of these," remarked Brock as he spun the bottle around in his hand to read the label.

"Yeah, yeah," Reba mumbled as she took it from him hastily. After popping two in her mouth, she crawled back to the headboard of her bed and fell into the pillows. "Turn off that light, will you?" She asked, covering her face with the blanket.

"Oh, no you don't," Brock chuckled as he pulled the sheet away from her face. "We," he continued as he pulled her to a sitting position only to result in a groan on her part, "are going to get some ingredients to prepare a meal for the family tomorrow night." He ignored her sarcastic remarks as he dragged her out of bed, not taking no for an answer.

"Brock, if you don't let me sleep, I will force you to go with Barbra Jean to the next baby beanie convention.._dressed as one._" She smirked at her threat, awaiting his compliance.

"Ah, ah, ah," he said wiggling a finger and shaking his head. "Nice try, but I already have to go to those once a month. Get dressed."

xxx

Reba tugged her cardigan a bit closer to her body as a breeze enraptured her body. The air was beginning to chill with the oncoming fall. 'I should have stayed in Hawaii where it's still warm,' she told herself as she waited patiently for Brock to get the shopping cart. They were always a hassle to free from the jumble of carts by the entry doors. She smiled at him as he approached her, pushing the cart along with him. Of course he got the one with the messed up wheel. "So what exactly are we getting? And since when do you volunteer to cook?" She raised a questioning eyebrow as he shrugged his shoulders and continued to push the cart down the first isle.

"I thought it would be a nice way to...well..I was thinking..hm." He bit his lip, trying to find the right words. "I thought, perhaps, we could have a family meeting tomorrow when everyone gets in." He glanced over his shoulder at Reba, whom was scanning the merchandise on the shelves, still letting the proposition sink in.

There was silence, with the exception of the wiggly cart wheel spinning out of control. "What do you think?" He asked after a while of absentmindedly walking down isles.

Reba sighed and stopped to examine a can of green beans, but decided against them. They were never good out of a can. "It's going to be hard, but they deserve to know. What about Barbra Jean?" She turned to face Brock with an unreadable expression on her face.

"That's the thing," he said, tossing in a box of instant mashed potatoes just so Reba could put them back on the shelf. "She wants a family meeting anyway, to break the news of our divorce. I thought maybe it was the right time to mention 'us'. And a meal, I believe, would be a good way to sort of lead into something like that." He held his tongue to look at Reba, hoping for her to voice her thoughts, as she always did.

Reba placed her index finger and thumb on either side of the bridge of her nose and let her head drop. "I feel like such a terrible person," she said more to herself than to Brock. "But you're right, for once," she added quickly. "We need to let them know and tomorrow would be the best time if any."

Brock nodded his head and looked straight ahead. His lips curled into a bashful smile as his hand moved to grasp her's. Reba looked up to him, but he continued to look straight ahead, knowing good and well her eyes were boring into his. Without saying anything, she laced her fingers with his.

xxx

"What do you mean Mom and Dad left?" Kyra set her fork down and looked up to Cheyenne. For once, she was intrigued by what her sister had to say.

Cheyenne sighed exasperatedly. "Like I _said, _Mom left and Dad went after her." She took a bite of her tilapia dish. "I'm telling you," she said through chewing. "It was meant to be." She nodded her head in agreement with herself and looked down at her plate. "What am I eating?" She poked at the food with her fork, it didn't look like the fish back home. It could use some hot sauce.

Kyra rolled her eyes. It was most definitely _not _meant to be. They would just end up hurting each other again. Why was Cheyenne supporting even the mere thought of them being attracted to each other again? It wasn't true, and she wasn't going to believe it for one second. It would be terribly wrong and her mom was not so stupid as to do anything remotely affectionate with her dad. Shoot, her mom would tie his feet, dangle him from a tree, and hit him with a bat like a pinata just to see what would come out. "Cheyenne, you don't really believe they would think of doing something like that behind everyone's backs, do you?" She scooted her dinner plate away from her, having lost her appetite.

This went unnoticed by Cheyenne and she shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know, I mean, they were acting pretty weird when they were here. Who knows?" There was silence for a moment as she took another bite and suddenly jerked her head up. "Oh, poor Barbra Jean!" she cried. What would become of her if it was true? Had her parents really been sneaking around together?

Kyra looked down at her lap with concern. She had really come to love Barbra Jean. Although no one would believe her, she found that the big blonde was really understanding and she had come to love her, but that didn't take away the fact that she was still a big goof.

"I don't know what to think of Mom and Dad getting back together. If it didn't hurt her enough the first time, it'll kill her this time." Cheyenne buried her head in her hands. She didn't know what to take from all of this, it was bearing down on her shoulders. She decided against telling Kyra about Barbra Jean and her dad being divorced when they got home.

Kyra shot her hands up to halt her sister. "Hold on Cheyenne, you're just making false accusations. They are NOT together and they won't GET together. Barbra Jean and Dad will work through whatever is going on with them. Just because Dad left to check on Mom, doesn't mean a damn thing."

"Kyra Eleanor Hart! Watch your mouth!" Cheyenne shouted and put her hands on her hips angrily. She felt the need to take over parenting since no other adult was around.

Kyra just rolled her eyes and got up from the table. "Stop all this crap about them getting together." She picked up her hardly touched plate of food and walked over to the sink in the small kitchen. She dumped the remaining food in the trashcan and placed the empty plate next to the sink on the counter. She glanced back at Cheyenne whom she could tell was thinking really hard about all of this. Her face fell and she sighed quietly.

* * *

**Don't much care for this chapter, but I felt it was rather necessary c:**

**Chapter 3**

_Chapter 4 coming soon._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**After returning from their trip to Hawaii, Brock and Reba struggle with the choices they must make, as well as the consequences for their actions. Read to discover how this will play out for themselves, as well as the family. **

**[R] Enjoy and read on!**

* * *

**Thank you for the reviews and reading, I hope you enjoy this chapter. (:**

* * *

Reba turned the dial to the right, causing the pot of pasta to steam higher. "Brock, you didn't have it hot enough," she remarked as she turned to face him, hands on her hips. "When you said you were going to make this meal, I thought you meant _you _were going to make this meal." She glared at him before turning back around to check on the vegetables.

"I wanted to," Brock bit the inside of his lip. "But then I realized I didn't know how to make anything."

"It took you this long to realize that?" Reba raised an eyebrow as she lifted the spoon to smell of her concoction. "Mmm," she inhaled the sweet smelling sauce. "Here, you be the guinea pig." She thrust the spoon to him, urging him to take the first taste.

Brock obliged willingly and took a sip of the sauce. It was delicious, the sweet and sour flavors mixed together beautifully. "Can I have another?"

Reba chuckled and shook her head. "We have to have some left for the family you know."

"One more spoon won't hurt," he said walking around the island counter to her side. He leaned in closely to the pan of sauce and attempted to spoon out some more, but Reba tore the dish away from him and placed it on the other side of the counter. "Oh no you don't," she covered the sauce with her body, protecting it from a hungry Brock. Suddenly, she felt two strong arms wrap around her waist and his hands pressed into her sides, resulting in an involuntary laughter. She couldn't contain herself as the pain ached through her abdomen and forced laughter burst throughout her until she was gasping for air and gripping Brock's forearm tightly. "Brock, Brock," she breathed heavily, turning to face him and trying to wriggle free.

Brock gave a devilish smile but ceased his tickling, seeing as her face was beet red. He laughed at her trying to regain her composure with difficulty. She was so beautiful, it had been a long time since he saw her laugh that hard. Perhaps he missed her much much more than he even realized. Maybe it was the little things that he wasn't able to forget. Over the years of their divorce, he'd see or hear something that reminded him of her. Something she used to say, something she used to sing, everything she did. Every little thing. Unable to help himself any longer, he leaned in closely until it seemed as if every breath she lost, he caught. Their lips were centimeters apart and their eyes locked in a deep gaze.

Reba's mind was blank. She couldn't stop herself or even think for that matter. So when Brock closed the gap and pressed his lips against hers, she instantaneously kissed him back. His lips tasted of that sweet and sour sauce and her tongue breached her lips, ready to dive into his mouth.

Brock opened his mouth just enough for Reba's tongue to spill in. Once it did, Brock gaped his mouth and twisted his tongue with hers. God, she was like a drug. He couldn't last minutes nowadays without thinking about her, needing her, craving her. It was like they had rediscovered feelings they once shared but thought they'd lost forever. He felt her fingers cling to his biceps and pull him in closer. He moved her backwards until her body was pressed up against the counter. Their mouths parted and he moved his kisses to her neck, where he sucked and bit teasingly on her pulse point. Reba's head rolled back and she closed her eyes, savoring every movement Brock made. His hands moved for her shirt and just as he unbuttoned the first button, he heard something sizzling and popping behind him. He halted abruptly and turned around to see the pot had boiled over and steaming water was running down the stove, counter, and onto the floor.

"Shit, shit, shit," Reba pushed him out of the way and scurried to the stove where she turned the dial all the way down and moved the pot off of the eye. She turned to Brock and smacked him upside the head. "What is wrong with you!?"

Brock rubbed the spot she had hit and and used his other hand to throw in the air. "What did I do!?"

"You made me ruin the pasta!" Reba exclaimed as she hurried to dab the puddles of water on the floor.

"I didn't _make _you do anything," Brock replied, wiggling his eyebrow in a playful manner. He loved messing with her, it was so much fun to see her get heated. The only downfall was getting hit in the head.

Reba rolled her eyes as she threw the sodden paper towel away in the trashcan. "Oh shut up," she said, although he did have a point, not that she'd ever admit it. She huffed at the pot of pasta. What were they going to do now?

Brock watched her for a minute. "Reba, it's not ruined, just a little soft. It's not a big deal. We can just drown it in sauce and they'll never know it was overcooked." Brock poked at the food with the spoon. "Just add some salt and that's that." He shrugged and moved past her to get the salt.

It was passed to Reba and she shook a good amount in. "I'll just package all of this up so it'll be ready for tomorrow night. At least it's out of the way."

Brock nodded and helped put everything into separate containers, then he tucked them away in the refrigerator.

Reba couldn't help but think about the coming day. How was she supposed to prepare for the family meeting? She didn't know what she should say. There was nothing _to _say. She and Brock were in the wrong, there was no excuse. 'It was in the heat of the moment?' Reba scoffed at the ridiculous idea of using that excuse. She sounded like Cheyenne during her high school years.

Brock watched Reba's eyebrows furrow and relax in a pattern. She was in deep thought, he could tell. He leaned over to touch her shoulder lightly, breaking her train of thought.

Reba looked up questioningly into Brock's eyes. She knew he could tell she was thinking awful hard on something. "What are we going to say?" She asked lightly, though it was a serious question.

Brock gave her a small smile and silently guided her over to the living room. "Sit," he motioned to the couch cushion and after she took a seat, he sat down next to her. A silence fell between them, though it was not unsettling. He placed his hand over hers and said:

"Reba, I don't think anything we say is going to be the right thing to say. What we need to tell them is the truth-leaving out some specific details of course." He smirked and he noticed a tint of red take place on her cheeks. "It'll be okay in the end. Maybe not in the beginning, but things will start to fall back in place after a while."

Reba placed her hand over his that lay atop her other one. His hand felt warm against her chilled ones. She squeezed it with the little strength she felt she had. Her eyes dropped to their hands when he didn't speak again. "Thank you Brock," she whispered.

"So what do you want to do with the remainder of our night?" He didn't say it in a suggestive tone, knowing this wasn't the time to make such approaches.

"I'm actually kind of getting tired," Reba noted, yawning into the nook of her arm.

Brock nodded and got up, helping her up once he was standing erect. "I think I'm going to change into my pajamas and probably lay down."

That sounded appealing to Reba too. "I think I'll do the same." She stepped back into the kitchen, made a glass of red wine, and flipped the light switch before going back into the living room. Brock had already ascended the stairs and disappeared down the hallway. Reba made her way upstairs, carefully balancing the wine glass between her index and middle finger. She tiptoed into her bedroom silently, shutting and locking her door behind her.

She changed into her satin pajamas quickly and decided to not cleanse her face just yet.

Her wine on her bedside table looked oh so welcoming. She cracked the bedroom door open, then climbed onto the bed and picked up her book in one hand and her wine glass in the other. The yellow lambency of the lamp created a soothing dim light to the room. Reba sloshed the alcohol around and stared at it a moment before taking a small sip. It was enticing, and she took another.

Brock tiptoed by Reba's door and peeked inside to see Reba cracking open a book and taking small, delicate sips of her red wine. It looked like a painting-like a beautiful picture with dark colors surrounding the centerpiece that lit up the room-Reba. And suddenly, he missed being beside her at night while she read and drank her wine, or hot tea, whichever suited her mood at the time being. Yes, he would be trying to sleep and yes, he would gripe at the light, but now that he thought about it, he loved that ritual they unconsciously shared almost every night. But most of all, he just missed being by her side at night.

Without thinking through his actions clearly, he pushed the door open and awkwardly stood in the doorway.

* * *

**Merry Christmas! † **

* * *

**Chapter 4**

_Chapter 5 coming soon._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**After returning from their trip to Hawaii, Brock and Reba struggle with the choices they must make, as well as the consequences for their actions. Read to discover how this will play out for themselves, as well as the family. **

**[R] Enjoy and read on!**

* * *

Reba looked up abruptly and, surprisingly, smiled. It was a tiny smile, but a smile nonetheless. She waited quietly for him to say what it was that he needed. But..he didn't need anything. After a couple of seconds passed, Reba became irritated. "Are you just going to stand there or tell me what it is that you want?"

That seemed to kick start Brock and he took a few steps inside her room. "I-uh...I wanted to see if you wanted some wine, but clearly you already have some." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. That wasn't a good lie, she wasn't going to believe it.

Reba cocked an eyebrow and set her wine down on the bedside table. "Clearly," she laughed lightly. "So..why are you still standing in my doorway?" She asked after a few seconds passed.

Brock teetered back and forth. He didn't know whether to turn and leave for the night or stay and try to mend this awkward conversation. Choosing the latter, he said, "I was thinking maybe we could read, you know for old time's sake."

Reba's eyes formed into slits. "Brock, you never read, you just complained about the light." She stated matter of factly, while resting her book to her side.

"Well why not start?" He shrugged his shoulders and stepped further inside the room, taking a glance at her selection of books. They were mostly romance novels. He hated to admit it, but he actually loved the movies, the books might be good as well.

Reba watched intently as he turned some of her books over to read the back. He couldn't be serious.

He finally decided on one and walked around the bed to join her. She bit her lip, trying not to smile as he slid in next to her. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he flipped to the very last page and breezed through it. "What are you doing!" She turned to face him, covering the words on the page with her hand.

"I was seeing if the ending was good," he remarked. He brushed her hand off and picked the book back up.

Reba tore the book out of his hands. "You're going to ruin it! You can't just read the end of the book like that!" She shouted, appalled.

Brock rolled his eyes and held his hand out for her to give it back. "How are you going to know whether it's worth your time?"

She ignored his hand and glared at him. "You read all the way through so the end is a surprise and makes sense dummy. And yes, this is a very good book, so read it all the way through." She handed back the book, with the page flipped back to the first chapter.

"Okay, okay," Brock rolled his eyes one last time before settling into his spot again and smoothing out the page. The words seemed endless as he skimmed the page, it was already making him dizzy.

He hadn't even gotten as far as the second page before his mind wandered back to Reba. He looked at her through his peripheral vision. God she was breathtaking. He had soon forgotten about the book and turned completely to face her. His eyes looked back and forth between her eyes and her lips.

Reba could feel eyes burning holes into her and she turned to look at the man next to her. "Brock, would you stop-"

Brock moved swiftly to cup her face with one hand and use the other to rest on her neck as he leaned in to kiss her.

Reba was taken aback but was captivated by the feel and taste of his lips against hers. They had always fit together so perfectly, always moving in perfect synch with each other no matter how much time had passed.

She tasted of red wine, as if she had doused her lips in raspberries and alcohol. Brock helped lift her so that she could move to mount him, never removing his lips from hers.

Reba blindly shoved the book next to her off the bed and reached for his shirt. They parted momentarily so that she could slip it over his head and he took hers off as well, leaving her chest clad in her taupe colored bra, laced in gold.

Reba's body straddled his thighs, and Brock placed his hands strategically on her neck and jawline. He sat back, so that his eyes could gaze into hers for a moment. That was when time seemed to freeze. Would this be another mistake added to their list? Why could they not help themselves? Why were they doing this to themselves? To their family? Could they stop, even if they tried?

These questions rammed through Brock's mind and when he looked back into her eyes, he knew she must have been thinking something similar, for a tear slid down her cheek and she shook her head as he began to come back to reality.

"I'm sorry," he whispered and stroked her cheek with his thumb. A moment of silence passed between them and he whispered again, "I'm sorry for everything."

More tears escaped from Reba's eyes and she closed them, attempting to stop herself from crying. When she opened her eyes again, Brock's expression was unchanged. She pulled him closer and hugged his neck. She could feel her tears against his bare chest as her face pressed into him. "I'm sorry too," she said in a barely audible voice.

Brock's arms were wrapped around her, from under her arms and he squeezed her tighter. He breathed her in, she smelt of that same shampoo. God, he was wrapped in the embrace of an angel, his angel. He would have liked to believe she was his.

The hug lingered for seconds, minutes, an eternity. And finally, they both sat back, having nothing left to say nor tears to shed.

Reba moved to where she was beside him again. Brock handed her his T-shirt and she smiled in thanks before slipping it on over her head. It enveloped her in its warm cotton fabric and the scent of Brock's cologne. She had always loved wearing guys clothing. It was like having them embrace her, even when they were no longer there.

She slid down into the sheets, planting her head in the pillow. Her body faced Brock and he just stared down at her. Time passed by slowly and after a while, Brock covered up as well and lay down, clicking the lamp off as he did so.

Darkness fell over them and consumed the room. The only light was that of the moon seeping through the thin curtains on the window.

Reba scooted closer to Brock, needing his warmth to wrap around her. She felt his fingers brush through her hair. She smiled, knowing that he had every detail of her memorized and he knew exactly where to place his hands and kisses, even in the utter darkness.

Brock kissed her forehead gently. "Can I stay the night?" He whispered quietly. It seemed to escape his lips and dissipate somewhere into the night.

"I didn't know you planned on leaving," Reba replied in her soft southern drawl. She heard Brock chuckle to himself and cuddle closer to her small body.

xxx

It was morning, which meant Reba and Brock only had until that night to prepare themselves for what was going to be said at the family meeting. Reba blinked her eyes open, only to come face-to-face with a tanned chest.

"Brock," she whispered, leaning up on her forearm and rubbing her tired eyes. He shifted in his sleep, but remained unconscious. Reba rolled her eyes and shook his arm. "Brock," she said a little louder which only resulted in a groan on his part. Reba became frustrated and shoved him harshly. "Brock!" She nearly shouted.

Brock's eyes shot open and he sat up suddenly. "What? What?" He looked around confused until his eyes landed on her. "Oh, morning," he smiled and relaxed his body back into the sheets.

Reba almost smiled back, but bit the inside of her cheek to keep from doing so. "I forgot how heavy a sleeper you are." She paused to roll her eyes. "Get up, we have to clean the house before everyone gets in tonight." She started to climb out of bed, but Brock wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back.

"Reba, the house is spotless. It doesn't need to be cleaned. Just lay here a minute more," he said almost pleadingly.

Reba sighed but smiled at his pouting face. He did have a point, the house was cleaned top to bottom. "Fine, but not long. We have stuff to do, you know." She scooted back under the covers, still clad in his big T-shirt and her cotton pajama shorts. The sheets were warm and seemed to lullaby Reba back into a weary self.

Brock had his arm resting on her middle and drawing lines with his finger up and down her arm. "Reba?" He asked quietly. Her eyes were closed and her face was completely relaxed. She wasn't asleep, but sort of in that state between slipping into an unconscious world and staying awake. She mumbled back in response and Brock waited a minute before speaking again. "About last night-"

Reba opened her eyes and turned her head to stare deeply into his eyes. "Brock, you don't have to."

Brock kept his voice hushed and started again. "No, I know. I just..well I was really worried when you left Hawaii. And I.." A lump formed in his throat. "I love you." He didn't know if last time they said it to each other, that night in Hawaii, she really meant it or if it was just in the heat of the moment. "I thought you'd resent me when I came back here to check on you."

Reba shook her head gently. "I was just scared, I needed some time to myself at least for that day. Some time to sort through my thoughts. I was set on the idea that I would just continue to deny whatever was between us, but when I got up the next day confused and hungover, you were here. Yesterday I realized that I wouldn't want anyone else by my side except you. I know it's wrong, but you're my best friend and I care for you too much to act like I don't want or need you in my life. And not just as a best friend, because I think-I know my feelings extend further for you than that." It felt funny saying that, she felt like she was on the outside looking in. She was different, or maybe she was who she was always meant to be around him. She had felt this way in their earlier relationship. He brought out a different side of her, one that no one else could.

Her eyes skimmed over his face and landed on his lips. They were curled into a small smile and she kept staring at them as she leaned in a little ways to kiss him softly. It was neither a long kiss nor intricate, but it had a lot of meaning behind it and both she and Brock knew it. "I love you too," she added as their lips parted.

* * *

**Happy New Years Today is the first blank page of a 365 page book. Write a good one.**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

_Chapter 6 coming soon._


End file.
